


I Feel More With Your Hand In Mine

by Luvandia



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mao Subaru and Midori are mentioned, mermaid au, pilot AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luvandia/pseuds/Luvandia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels the crash before he hears it, smells the smoke before he sees it billowing from the trees. Water clings to his skin, dark, murky, piercing—the ocean is screaming, the ground is shaking. His home is in pain. Hurriedly, Kanata pulls the rest of his body from the water, but the sting of cold still stays, its grip on him vice-like. </p>
<p>For the first time in his life, the peace is gone and Kanata is afraid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. when you and i are alone

**Author's Note:**

> my friends screamed at me to write chiakana and so i screamed at myself until i did it

There’s a certain way the days stop passing and instead start to wither that tells Kanata autumn near approaches.

 

Heat and cold blend into an indistinguishable mess, chipping away at all traces of the past to bring forth beauty in the deceased. Seafoam crashes harder upon the shore, whisking the brilliant leaves resting on the sand back into the sea, never to be seen again. Kanata used to fear sharing the same fate, back when he was small and the brimming curiosity of youth hadn’t yet diminished. Now he knows better. He knows to trust the push and pull of the ocean, his mother, and he knows to rest just _so_ on the little island he calls his home so that the water won’t pull him away.

 

Hm. He wonders if leaves feel pain.

 

Drowning hurts, after all.

 

Kanata watches the water carefully. Marvels at how quiet the waves are. Around this time of the day, things start to settle on the island—the creatures burrow into the sand, the scraggly forget-me-nots open their leaves up again, and the sky turns to glitter sprinkled in intricate patterns across a backdrop of pinks and golds and reds—but rarely has the ocean quelled its rhythmic crashing like this. It’s a premonition, usually, of something bad about to happen. The calm before a storm. 

 

He feels the crash before he hears it, smells the smoke before he sees it billowing from the trees. Water clings to his skin, dark, murky, piercing—the ocean is screaming, the ground is shaking. His home is in pain. Hurriedly, Kanata pulls the rest of his body from the water, but the sting of cold still stays, its grip on him vice-like. For the first time in his life, the peace is gone and Kanata is afraid.

 

Desperate, aching for something familiar to ground him to reality, he seeks out the sunset.

 

His eyes meet fire instead. 

 

.

 

“Wake up. Wake up, please…”

 

The body lying on the sand, for the most part, looks like Kanata. It has no face, and has two incredibly uncomfortable protrusions sprouting out from where its waist ends, but it has the same torso and arms. Something familiar.

 

“You’ve hurt the ocean…” Kanata tries, but the body doesn’t budge. “I won’t forgive you, you know…?”

 

No response. Patience running thin, Kanata raises his hand and brings it down on the creature’s head. It jolts, shooting up from its previous position, and Kanata backs off into the foliage before it turns its alarmed eyes on him. So it _does_ have a face, he thinks, just as foreign words start falling from the creature’s tongue. It crawls closer, louder now, and that’s when Kanata pushes forward and presses his lips against the creature’s own. 

 

It freezes.

 

The pressure against his mouth doesn’t fade, though, which is something Kanata is grateful for. He pulls away only when his lips start to tingle, a telltale sign that the transfer is complete.

 

_That_ snaps the creature out of whatever trance it had been in. “Y-you, uh, um—”

 

“Not,” starts Kanata, before pausing. The new language sounds strange in his voice. “Not ‘uhhum’. I am Kanata.”

 

“Kanata,” the creature tests, still uneasy. But Kanata beams when he hears his name, and the creature can’t help the way its own lips tug upwards in return. “You just… what was that…?”

 

“Our mouths touched.” Kanata leans forward on his arms, speaking slower this time so the creature will understand. It still looks horribly confused, eyebrows furrowing, and Kanata supposes its culture is different so he continues, “Now, I speak your language.”

 

“Ah,” says the creature, understanding dawning on its face. “So that was… ah, I get it, I get it!”

 

“Really?”

 

“No.” The creature stands, wiping the sand off the protective covering on its lower limbs. “But I’m guessing that’s how it works around here. And from the looks of things, I’ll have plenty of time to learn…” Something, an emotion Kanata can’t place, passes over the creature’s face. “Anyway… Kanata, right? That’s your name? Since you’ve introduced yourself, it’s only right that I return the favour. Morisawa Chiaki, the passionate guy! Morisawa Chiaki, the reliable guy! Morisawa Chiaki, the guardian of justice! At your service!”

 

Chiaki strikes a pose to punctuate each sentence of his introduction.

 

Kanata never knew arms could bend like that. He claps politely, anyway.

 

Chiaki, from his new vantage point, takes a moment to access his surroundings. The island seems untouched, and if memory serves, uncharted. He’d done his research before the expedition, and not a single map showed indication of land existing in this section of the sea. 

 

Vines are strewn upon the forest floor, discoloured where the golden rays of spring fail to reach. Fruits hang limp from only the lowest boughs, casting uneven silhouettes against the ground. The storms of yesteryear, gone but not forgotten, have torn into the bodies of pines and oaks where they stand; even crumpled, they still extend towards the heavens, with a presence as foreboding as the trees are tall. Chiaki’s fingers pull away damp from the twisted bark. Rain must have fallen recently—hydration won’t be an issue.

 

Now that he takes a good look at it, the greenery around him is gorgeous. It hadn’t been, earlier. Not when he was hurdling towards the island in a death machine with no way to escape. Past that, all he remembers from before waking up is flying through clear skies, then watching with deep-seated horror as all his devices malfunctioned one-by-one, leaving the engine for last. The bruises and cuts that litter his body mean nothing when it’s a miracle he’s still able to stand now. 

 

Unable to stomach it, Chiaki turns away. “Hey, Kanata?”

 

“Yes…?”

 

“When you found me, was there anything else around my body? Like... a plane.”

 

Kanata shifts deeper into the shrubbery, eyebrows furrowing. Only now does Chiaki notice Kanata’s shirtless. Probably pantsless, too, but Chiaki doesn’t want to assume. It’s rude. And creepy. And many other bad things. Chiaki averts his gaze to be polite, but already he feels his cheeks burning awkwardly.

 

Kanata taps a finger to his chin and hums. “I killed it.”

 

Embarrassment forgotten, Chiaki whirls around. “You killed _what_?”

 

“It was in flames, and Chiaki wouldn’t wake up, so I poured ‘sand’ into its heart. It went _pchoo_ , _kkkgghh_ , and then it died. I killed it.”

 

And he had, in a manner of speaking. Debris had littered the ground and treetops, metal scraps hanging from branches and sticking precariously from the sand. Some of the pieces still smoked, but none of them carried flames and so Kanata let them be. His focus laid with the source of the ocean’s turmoil—the fire.

 

The plane was in shambles when he’d found it. Minutes of dragging himself across the searing hot shore had led him to one crystal clear shard, then another, and soon he found a canopy of glass jutting out from the ground, curling in on itself like a large, monstrous wave. The impact of the crash must have caused this, Kanata had thought, running a finger over the jagged edges. Half of the plane body was buried in sand, and the half that wasn’t had little licks of fire spreading across its charred wings. Then there was that distant sputtering from the front near the nose of the aircraft, where the plates had torn themselves from the rest of the wreck, exposing the delicate machinery underneath. Kanata hadn’t known what it was, but it looked like the plane was dying, and so he’d gathered sand in his hands and poured it down into the guts of the engine to speed up the process. It had reacted by exploding.

 

Kanata sways his head to the tune of the ocean as it washes over his memory. Chiaki, meanwhile, has managed to discern that Kanata poured sand into the _engine_ and is having fifty consecutive heart attacks.

 

“Breathe, Chiaki. Your only means of returning back to civilisation may be dead, but your burning spirit can’t waver now! Look on the bright side! The flames of evil have been vanquished, and all, so…” Pause. “Vanquished… Vanquished! That’s it! Kanata, you’re a hero!”

 

“Ah… I’m a hero…?” Kanata rests his chin on the sand, taking a moment to figure out what Chiaki means by that. “Because I… killed your ‘plane’?”

 

“Yes,” says Chiaki gravely. “You took down the villain, saving everything on this island from certain death, and that means you’re on the side of justice like I am!”

 

Even though Kanata knows Chiaki’s language now, he feels like he’s missing something in the conversation. To his knowledge, killing things is frowned upon, but the fact that Chiaki so feverently praises him makes him grin.

 

“A hero, mm… I like that. I ‘saved’ Chiaki too, after all.”

 

“You… saved me?”

 

“You looked like you were ‘drowning’, so I ‘saved’ you with a mighty chop.”

 

“So that’s why my head hurts…” The pain from before ghosts over the back of Chiaki’s skull, and he winces through his own smile. “But I won’t be ungrateful. You did save my life, so... From the very bottom of my heart, thank you.”

 

He crouches, extending his arm out to Kanata. Something flickers in Kanata’s gaze, and then he’s reaching out in turn. They shake hands by the last dying blaze of sun, Chiaki’s eyes wide and proud while Kanata’s are curious and questioning, but their smiles are tinged with the same shade of excitement and the air is sweet with the promise of new friendship.

 

.

 

Chiaki’s first night on the island finds him exhausted, shivering by the seaside as Kanata watches the stars. He prods at the fire before him with a stick, hoping it’ll grow, but apparently it misses the memo the way his co-pilot Takamine did not.

 

“Did Chiaki find what he was ‘searching’ for?” Kanata’s voice is soft, like the sigh of a night breeze.

 

“...not really.” It comes out unenthused, worn. Chiaki makes a face at his own tone and tries again. “No, I mean…! The island may have bested me today, but a hero never goes down! Once I regain all my strength I’ll try again.”

 

For a moment, only the fire’s sharp crackling fills the air. 

 

Then the water turns, washing over the sand, and when the tide recedes it takes Kanata with it. Chiaki blinks, disquietude filling his chest as he searches the shore for any trace of that luminous blue or those haunting green eyes, suddenly gone, but when the waves crash again Kanata is right where he’d been before, perched on the sand with his lower half submerged in the ocean. Apart from the little water that drips from his hair, he’s completely dry.

 

“Kanata?”

 

“Chiaki.” Blinking slow, Kanata’s gaze is even. “Lying is bad.”

 

It’s unsettling how Kanata manages to see right through him. Averting his eyes, Chiaki lowers himself back onto the sand (when had he even gotten up?), pretending the weight spreading over his vision was born from fatigue and fatigue alone.

 

They had parted ways earlier—Kanata wished to go back to the ocean to take another soak, and Chiaki thought it a good opportunity to scavenge for food. He knew all the tribulations that could possibly happen like the back of his hand, since, well, he’d gone to pilot school, and imposing on Kanata by asking for his help was therefore deemed unnecessary. 

 

Somewhere between the third and fourth hour of walking by fruit that was either poisonous or inedible, the decision came to be one he regretted. 

 

Hypertension was the icing on his cake. Dizzy spells struck, one after another, and Chiaki had to give up the search or his body would give up on him. That’s how he found himself trudging along the perimeter of the shoreline, hoping to reunite with the one good thing that had come out of this perpetually unfolding disaster.

 

And there Kanata had been, with that unmistakeable shock of blue hair, waiting for him with warm eyes like he’d been expecting Chiaki all along.

 

Chiaki wipes at his nose, smiling. “Sorry, Kanata. I guess I’m a bad boy, huh? I might have overexerted myself a little earlier, so for the time being, I’m out of commission. I don’t know if regaining my strength is an option at all.”

 

“If you’re tired, you should let the water ‘tug’ you back and forth, back and forth...” Starting to sway again, Kanata lets his eyes slip shut so he can listen to the way the waves whisper behind him. “Like this.”

 

“I think if I do that, I’ll end up dizzier than when I started…”

 

Kanata’s only response is a low, satisfied sigh as he presses his cheek against the sand. “Back and forth, back and forth...”

 

“Wh-?! Hey! You can’t sleep there, you’ll drown! Wait, are you already drowning?! Kanata! Kanataaaaa!!”

 

The frown that blooms on Kanata’s face looks like it doesn’t belong at all, and yet in all its sulky essence it somehow feels fitting. “The fish will wake up if Chiaki keeps shouting like that, you know? Their scales will fall off if they get ‘scared’. Don’t pick on the fish, okay…?”

 

From where he’s seated, Chiaki unclenches his fists. So maybe he did overreact a little. It’s something Isara back home always chided him for whenever they were paired together for flight simulations and the way the plane flung them around got Chiaki’s blood pumping just a few degrees too high. But Kanata isn’t drowning, and he isn’t upset either, and if he doesn’t need emotional or physical saving then Chiaki can afford to tone it down. With this in mind, he nods, resolute. The warm smile he’s rewarded with takes all the weight of the day’s burdens off his shoulders, and with all the grace of a hermit crab he drags himself across the sand to sit by Kanata, basking in his newfound lightness.

 

If there’s one thing Chiaki is sure about, it’s that Kanata’s disposition keeps him grounded. Having another human being around in the aftermath of a crisis is more than he could ever ask for.

 

Quietly, so he doesn’t disturb the peace, Chiaki goes, “So there are fish here?”

 

“Mmhm,” hums Kanata, slow and steady. “It’s the ocean, after all.”

 

It’s such a simple answer, Chiaki can’t help the embarrassment that floods his cheeks. “So that’s what you’ve been living off all this while...” Come to think of it, he should have asked Kanata about his diet in the first place. For all the fundamental skills Chiaki has under his belt, he’s still lacking in common sense.

 

Except Kanata shakes his head and says, “I don’t ‘eat’ fish. I can’t swim,” and Chiaki finds himself being thrown for a loop again.

 

“But there’s no way— Nothing else here is edible! Wait. Maybe if I squint… No, but even then, there’s no way a human can—”

 

Threaded with moonlight, the waves ribbon around Kanata when he rises, glowing against his fragile pale skin. Water pours down his neck in rivulets, gathers in the curve of his collarbones—its lustre is second only to the way his eyes shine, like he knows something Chiaki doesn’t. Everything about him is ethereal, like a moment torn from the rest of the world, finding solace only in the silence that the island seems to live and breathe come twilight.

 

Then Chiaki sees it. Gold, trailing along Kanata’s waist in diamond markings. It stretches downward, pattern tightening into what are unmistakably fish scales. Against the cool blue of the sea the colours are rich and striking, but before Chiaki can discern the details the current roars into his ears, surging back violently. This time, Kanata doesn’t disappear with the water. Instead, he rests on the sand, easygoing as always in spite of his newly exposed features—flimsy looking fins, appearance belying the way they survived the churning force of the sea, and a tail that lifts heavily, swaying in tandem with the rest of Kanata. 

 

The roaring melts away into a sough. Then, and only then, does Kanata murmur:

 

“I’m... not human.”

 

Chiaki’s head feels light. He thinks maybe his body has given up on him and that this is a fever dream, a prelude to none other than death itself. But the pieces are falling into place—how he’s never actually seen Kanata’s legs, how Kanata can trust the ocean so freely, how the other hasn’t once stood up today, he _can’t_ , because—

 

Kanata is a merman.

 

Kanata is a _merman_.

 

It takes a moment for Chiaki to process the words running through his head. Then, the very picture of intelligence, he goes, “You said you couldn’t swim earlier.”

 

Kanata nods.

 

“Was that just a ruse? A clever trick of the tongue to keep the fish of the sea protected? No matter how noble your intentions may have been, I just can’t forgive that, mythical creature or not…!”

 

“Hm…? But I’m here… I’m not ‘mythical’.”

 

“Right, but you _can_ swim!”

 

Kanata’s brows furrow. “I can’t, Chiaki.”

 

“But… you’re a merman.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And merpeople swim.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you can’t swim…?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Chiaki hugs his knees closer. “You’re awfully happy about this.”

 

“There’s nothing to be sad about. The ocean is my ‘home’, as is the island. As long as I have a place to return to…” Digging his fingers into the wet sand, Kanata turns away. “Then it’s okay, you know...? That I’m not ‘normal’ like the others.”

 

The words feel far too sombre for a voice that light and airy. Chiaki doesn’t dwell on it, because he doesn’t know the first thing about Kanata. The right to pry isn’t his. Instead he reaches out, pulling Kanata’s hands up so he can intertwine those long, slender fingers with his own. Kanata’s eyes widen, and his head snaps back so he’s facing Chiaki again, but he doesn’t pull away.

 

“Do you know what this is?” Chiaki asks, voice low. Kanata watches their hands carefully and shakes his head no. Pleased, Chiaki leans back. “It’s a vow. I, Morisawa Chiaki, vow to be your friend.”

 

“We weren’t ‘friends’ before…?”

 

“Not proper ones. I introduced myself as a crusader of justice earlier, right? Well… I’m revoking my hero status. No hero goes around hurting people, and I went and said some things that ended up hurting you.”

 

“Chiaki…”

 

“And,” continues Chiaki, squeezing Kanata’s hand, “since I’m no longer a hero, I have to re-introduce myself to you. What I said before is outdated and all, so… How do you do, stranger? It’s Morisawa Chiaki, still at your service!”

 

Never mind the fact that holding hands with an actual stranger wouldn’t feel as right as this. Chiaki’s managed to tear down the previous atmosphere, shaping it up into something of his own, and the gloom hanging overhead has dissipated in the face of new hope. 

 

Slow tinkling laughter bubbles up from Kanata. “Then… It’s nice to meet you, Chiaki. I am not human. I am Kanata, and I come from the blue sea.”

 

Chiaki, listening to the dangerous way his own heart thuds at the brilliance of that soft sweet smile, absolutely beams.


	2. i've never felt so at home

Most of the animals on the island dwell wherever they deem fit, but rarely do they venture underground—the few that do tunnel into the earth sustain themselves on bits and pieces of fern, mouths too small to break through the shells of buried fruit. Kanata’s explanation on this comes out somewhat muddled, him being the way he is, but Chiaki gets the gist of it; the key to finding food lies in searching the shoreline. 

 

Easier said than done, considering how difficult it is for Chiaki to maneuver around the scattered rocks with Kanata nodding and swaying in his arms. But many of Kanata’s scales have already either faded or fallen from years of dragging that tail of his across the unforgiving terrain, and as a pilot, and more importantly as a man who prides himself on helping others, Chiaki refuses to let the likes of _friction burn_ hurt anyone if he can help it.

 

And he can. He won’t forget the way Kanata had looked when Chiaki asked him if he’d like to be carried. It was like—

 

Like the idea of kindness had never before occurred to him.

 

But Chiaki wants that to change. Everyone deserves a little kindness in their lives, no matter how fleeting. And Kanata, with his bright eyes and brighter attitude and the brightest smile Chiaki’s ever dared to gaze at, deserves it most of all.

 

An eternity of walking leads them along a weathered path where the rocks ease back into sand, and Chiaki silently thanks the deity, god or spirit looking out for him and his aching feet. Kanata, too, looks relieved that the worst of it is over, lifting his head from the crook of Chiaki’s neck to look upon the tide lazily oozing in.

 

“The waves are calm today, aren’t they…?”

 

Chiaki squints. Sniffs the air. Squints again. “They’re definitely not giving the ocean their all! Should I giving them a good scolding, Kanata?”

 

“No thank you,” replies Kanata, gesturing cheerily at a sand dune a little ways off. “Like this, the ocean will not carry these away, you see… So the ocean being gentle... is something in our favour.”

 

Sheepish, Chiaki sets Kanata down on the sand and watches as the merman drags himself towards the dune. Taking special care to dust off the grains mounded over it, Kanata lifts the mystery object from the ground with a hum of triumph, then balances it back on the sand with outstretched palms.

 

“Chiaki, look. We have fished up a coconut,” sings Kanata as he makes the fruit between his hands wobble back and forth in a little dance. “Yummy, yummy…”

 

Chiaki takes a good look at it, running his finger over the coconut’s chewed up green husk. Yummy is the last word he’d think of, and it’d do him good to steer clear of whatever creatures reside in the sand, but he’s excited nonetheless for his first meal in hours. “Good work, Kanata! Leave cracking it open to me. I’ll just run off real quick to find a…”

 

“Nn-nn. I can do it.” Kanata’s smile is wide, confident. Chiaki blinks back his confusion, crouching down to meet Kanata’s eyes with his breath held. As it turns out, Kanata is strong—a well-placed swing of the arm is all it takes for him to split the husk into two clean cut pieces. He hands one off to Chiaki, who accepts his half with shaky hands and an even shakier grin. “There… It isn’t often that I exert myself like that. I did a good job, you know?”

 

“An _amazing_ job,” Chiaki corrects after taking a sip from the overflowing husk. “As expected of a full-fledged hero!”

 

“If I keep it up, Chiaki will praise me more, won’t he...?”

 

Coconut water spills down Chiaki’s throat the wrong way and he sputters and coughs, waiting for the burning itch to fade before he sits up fully, frowning. “That’s no way to treat your duty as a pursuer of justice! Of course, I’ll praise you if you’ve been good, but you shouldn’t do things for the sake of being complimented. As a man—”

 

“Merman…?”

 

“ _Merman_ , you should look deep into your heart. Instinct will guide you to discern right from wrong, and from there… that’s when you do the right thing. That’s the hero way.” Chiaki’s voice falters at the end. At first he chalks it up to the prior choking hurting his vocal chords somehow, but when he faces Kanata and sees the earnest way the other man listens to his every word, he can’t help but think of Akehoshi back home, always ignoring the way Chiaki went on and on sometimes ( _always_ ) about the proper values to have in life. What he would give to see the rest of his crew again, Chiaki thinks, feeling suddenly hollow. It doesn’t take a doctor to figure out what’s ailing him now.

 

Homesickness, rooted within him like a plague that slowly spreads.

 

Kanata watches the way Chiaki tries to uncrumple his smile for a good, long moment. Then he says, “It makes Chiaki happy, doesn’t it…? Being a hero?”

 

“That’s the gist of it, but it’s more than just that,” starts Chiaki hesitantly in case his voice fails him again. Feeling confident when it doesn’t, he continues on. “Helping others out, and knowing that when they smile afterwards it’s because I made a difference in their lives… Those are the things that make me happy. They’re what being a hero is all about.”

 

“Ubububu… Even after Chiaki’s explained, I still don’t understand…”

 

“Hey, don’t pout like that… As the only hero on the island right now, you have to keep your spirits high!” Chiaki sets his husk firmly into the sand so it stands like a bowl. He pats the area beside him incessantly, then grins from ear to ear at Kanata’s enthusiasm when Kanata, having abandoned his own half of the husk, flops down onto the ground. “Good, good! Just like that!”

 

It was wrong of Chiaki to assume he could teach Kanata about a concept as complex and widespread as heroism with just a few sentences alone, especially when Chiaki himself had years to grow up with comics and shows and the rangers he loves so dearly. That’s why he’ll take it upon himself to teach Kanata now about all he needs to know, and then some. 

 

On the sand, Kanata stretches out, not a single word of protest on his tongue. 

 

It’s not approval, not by a longshot, but it is a start and so Chiaki speaks.

 

He speaks of heroes and legends and everything in-between, enrapturing Kanata with one tale after another. It’s almost effortless, the way he strings together separate lifetimes into a paper chain of fantasy, proudly displaying his work to the world, to his friend, to Kanata beside him listening with wide eyes. There’s a ranger who turns coat, and a villain who redeems himself, and there’s added emphasis on how friendship and kindness always save the day. Then the words veer from the topic of good to the prevalence of evil. Chiaki’s barely touched upon the barbarity of pouring milk into a bowl before the cereal when he pauses to take breath, and there and then Kanata says:

 

“I never knew I was lonely until I met you.”

 

Following the fragile curve where his spine leads into his tail, the dim glow of dawn traces an intricate path down Kanata’s body. His pupils are blown in the low light, irises iridescent when they flicker to meet Chiaki’s. 

 

“Kanata…”

 

“You do not have to send a ‘bottle’ back… because I hear your message loud and clear. I simply... wanted Chiaki to know, that’s all...”

 

Chiaki thinks back to Akehoshi. To Isara. Takamine. He thinks of all the time they’ve spent together under the initiation process, him as the leader and them, the unwilling cadets under his wing. Even when the going got tough, beneath all the eye-rolling and reluctance they’d still grit their teeth and pledge loyalty to both their team and mission. What it would be like to live in a world without their companionship, Chiaki doesn’t want to imagine.

 

But Kanata doesn’t have an Akehoshi-Isara-Takamine. All he has is Chiaki, and Chiaki knows he can’t stay. 

 

.

 

Etched into the base of the mountains is a shallow cave, fissures splitting the rock within, letting water seep through. Outside, the first few drops of rain streak the earth, bringing with it a barrage of lightning that strikes all in its path. The thunder that follows resounds within the cave and it hurts Kanata’s ears, but he curls up deeper against Chiaki’s side, ignoring the ringing in his head. It isn’t the best shelter, but Chiaki welcomes the respite from the incoming storm the same way he’s long welcomed both the island and Kanata—with open arms. 

 

It is there that they kiss for the second time, a simple press of one set of lips to another.

 

.

 

“One more, Chiaki, please and thank you…”

 

“Another, already? Even though you’re asking nicely and all, I won’t give in that easily!”

 

“Chiaki, _kiss _!”__

__

__“Agh…! Preying on my weaknesses with that pout again, huh? Kanata, you’re truly devious after all... Alright, alright. C’mere, you!”_ _

__

__Lip touching, Kanata is slowly coming to realise, holds more significance in human culture than it does anywhere else._ _

__

__He thinks he likes it._ _

__

__._ _

__

__._ _

__

__._ _

__

__Long after the ship that comes to rescue Chiaki has departed, Kanata pulls himself onto the shore, eyes fixed on the horizon ahead._ _

__

__He knows now what it was he saw on Chiaki’s face all those months ago, back when they had first met and the wreckage weighed fresh down on them both. The same feeling rests within him now, and he finds himself constantly reaching towards his chest, unused to how heavy his heart has become. Watching the waves alone just isn’t the same._ _

__

__Loneliness, he decides, is a disease._ _

__

__But it never takes root in Kanata’s memories, never intrudes on the nostalgia, and so he holds onto them, knowing this is how it’s meant to be._ _

__

__._ _

__

__The seasons change._ _

__

__Old ash from the explosion long ago lightly scatters in the wind, coming to rest in the moss that stretches over what was once a plane. Dirt and grass forms a gentle slope where aluminium used to jut from the ground, enveloping the body and leaving only one window untouched through which the forest creatures have made their nests and raised their young. Trailing along the curve of its tail are flowers in varying sunset shades, and they close when crabs scuttle past in a hurry and brush against the petals. Frogs wait patiently under the shelter of its wings for monsoons to pass, croaking out little songs through the heavy sheets of rain that fall._ _

__

__In the quiet aftermath of destruction, nature will always thrive._ _

__

__And in the quiet aftermath of autumn, Kanata will, too._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chiaki had desperately tried to encourage kanata to go back with him while the rescue boat was still on its way but kanata knew that a life meant for humans wasn't a life meant for him to live. he'd hidden in the foliage until chiaki finally left, and he's waited ever since for the day he'll meet chiaki again.
> 
> if the chapter seems rushed it's because it has been sitting in my docs for half a year, incomplete, and i figured actually finishing this for some closure is better than leaving it unfinished forever so merry christmas everyone


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